


The Chosen Path

by daniko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sirius nods, kisses Remus full on the lips. He has made that choice the moment he took Harry.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thanks to both J. and A., because it is such a relief when you send in your roughly put together jumble of words and they say, _this_ , _this_ and _this_ sounds off. Everything gets so much clearer afterwards! And I had a blast writing this. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> **Prompt:** _I shall be telling this with a sigh // Somewhere ages and ages hence: // Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— // I took the one less traveled by, // And that has made all the difference._ ~ excerpt from _The Road Less Traveled_ by Robert Frost. Taken from somewhere around [here](http://rs-games.livejournal.com/103505.html#cutid2).

“It’s almost nightfall, Maggie,” says Liam, “we’d better go.”

Maggie nods, wiping the tears away from her eyes, just as Liam places a hand on her shoulder. As always, she touches the tombstone one more time, slowly tracing the words; ‘Here lies Madeline “Maddie” Piemaker, Beloved Daughter and Sister’. “We miss you, sis. We’ll come back tomorrow,” she whispers.

Liam opens his mouth to tell her, _again_ , that it isn’t healthy to visit their sister every day, but Maggie misses her twin madly and there really isn’t time for a discussion of that magnitude at the moment. Liam knows, just like Maggie does, about the creature that has been haunting the woods around Godric’s Hollow since the 31st.

The winter sun is gone, and the sky is a gradient of colour from midnight-blue to lilac.

Liam helps Maggie to her feet, entwines their arms and guides her to the graveyard’s iron gate. Only to stop short at the sight that greets him. At his side, Maggie gasps and freezes, nails digging into Liam’s forearms.

The wolf seems not to notice them, as he prowls forward, his frame sagging under the action of some invisible force. Liam and Maggie don’t move, both of them ready to fight if needed; running would be pointless, but the wolf – the massive, human-sized wolf – just keeps moving. He lifts his eyes when he passes them.

They’re a man’s eyes, full of pain and grief and _that_ is what’s crushing him, which is something Maggie and Liam can understand very well.

They watch as the wolf stops in front of two new graves, and curls around himself in the snow, whimpering painfully. Maggie looks like she wants to comfort the creature and, well, Liam supposes he can relate to that, but that would be reckless of them. “Don’t even think about it,” he tells her.

Maggie doesn’t look surprised that Liam guessed her thoughts and, instead, presses her lips in annoyance. “That’s not a wolf, Liam.”

“I know. That’s why we’d better get as far away as we can while he’s distracted.”

Maggie wrenches her arm away from him. “That’s a man in pain, you prat!”

Liam contemplates throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her home, but then decides to treat her like an adult. “A man’s entitled to grieve on his own.”

Well, that and he is pretty sure the only thing stopping the wolf from attacking is his sorrow, which could easily turn to anger anytime soon, but Maggie would only scoff that particular argument. And it’s also better than telling Maggie the truth; Liam knows who those graves belong to. Queer folk, the lot of them, like the ones who took his sister over a month ago on All Hallows Eve.

Maddie was like them, too – a witch, they were told, when she was eleven.

It’s not that Liam minds a bit of oddness in his acquaintances, Maggie is a bit of a seer, after all; but that they took one of his little sisters with them is something he can’t forgive. So, he’d rather he and Maggie don’t have anything to do with that sort; Hogwarts or even that Order business Maddie was so proud to belong to. That means not helping the wounded werewolf that obviously grieves for the murdered couple.

A flock of birds flies north. The moon has risen in the sky, and just as they cross the graveyard’s gate, the wolf lets out a soul-wrenching howl to the goddess.


	2. The Escape

There isn’t a trial. Not even for a fellow Auror. Or maybe it’s especially because he is— _was_ , a fellow Auror. Wizards aren’t the most forgiving of people. And so, Sirius Black is hauled to Azkaban the very same day he’s captured in London; no questions asked, no possible defence, nothing that is given even to the most despicable criminal. But not to a _Black_.

Azkaban is terrible; in a way most people can’t even fathom, because most people’s worst nightmares consist of the death of loved ones, regular phobias like closed spaces and water, or even bugs and reptiles. But none of them can even begin to understand how very frightening it is to be a child in a Black’s house. That’s the reason Blacks are invariably ruthless. But that is not a synonym of evil.

No, it just means they spent their childhood in constant fear of house-elves, nasty little things, of their scarecrow of a mother and their absent – but very much feared – figure of a father. That they fell asleep some nights with shouts coming from Father’s study and Mother’s gleeful gossiping – “I heard she ran away with a Mudblood barista and got into _trouble_ ; I don’t believe the aberration made it through.” – that they were told to surpass their siblings above all else. There was no room for failure. Not for a Black. Never a break for a Black.

There wasn’t – there _isn’t_ – much that Sirius wouldn’t do to get away from all that. Now, he’s forced to live through it every day. The Dementors simply _love_ him. He’s new blood, new screams and new nightmares.

Death starts sounding inviting after a while.

They start with the foundation of his personality, of course; those terrible childhood memories, where he felt the need to look over his shoulder even on his the way to the loo, a constant dread filling him since he was old enough to know what’s what. There’s one particular memory he hadn’t even remembered—

Sirius was five when Cousin Andromeda started dating Teddy, the boy who worked in the kiosk down the street; she was _in love_ and she confided in her sister and found herself _called to Orion’s office_.

Sirius was old enough to know that, when someone was called to Father’s office, they were going to be punished with worse than Mother’s cane across the back.

Cissa, of course, was given the beautiful doll she wanted so much and Andy was supposed to stay locked in her room forever. Sirius never really saw her again; Mother would only smirk when he asked. The tapestry in sitting room got a big burn where Andy’s face used to be.

That childish fear had apparently never gone away, so Sirius still shudders at the thought of what happened to Andy; is still afraid that it might happen to him.

That when Sirius learned what it means to be a Black. It’s what he became, who he is now; full of rage and defiance, of that basic instinct, flight or fight. Sirius certainly won’t fly! That’s not who he is and, precisely because of that, he had to learn something: that he mustn’t trust anyone, if he wanted to survive in a Black’s world. 

But then he met James, and was placed in Gryffindor. Now, James is gone – because Sirius forgot. How could he have forgotten a notion so thoroughly drilled into him?

This is the thought that starts a new age of nightmares.

This time, Lily, James and Harry are screaming, which isn’t a real memory, but Sirius dreams about it so often that almost feels like it is. There is that one time when he and James were talking about it and came to the conclusion that it _had to_ be Remus. Peter was too cowardly, and Remus had been a Dark creature all along; he must have felt the calling, and, while James looked grim with determination, Sirius felt like the floor vanished from beneath his feet.

How wrong they were!

This is what ignites the anger. If Remus was innocent after all, why hasn’t he come to rescue Sirius? Why is Sirius still trapped in his hellhole when Remus knows that he would _never_ betray James? What about Dumbledore? Or the Longbottoms? _They know Sirius_!

The nightmares go away after that, and the Dementors have no choice but to do the same. They can’t take any more from him, because there is no more to take; no more sorrow, no more fear. Only regret, and a festering anger that boils within Sirius and gets hotter with each passing year. The death-wish goes away. 

* * * 

A few more years pass by, and the anger blazes from red-hot to white-hot. This brings a new clarity; he knows what to do, how to resolve things. Nevertheless, there are a few details he still needs to work out and people he needs to find, and he doesn’t know how. It takes him a couple more years, but then, just three months short of his twelfth anniversary in the doghouse, Sirius gets his break.

The rat, screams Bella, the rat brought on the Dark Lord’s downfall. Her screeching never, _ever_ stops, but Sirius doesn’t to tell her to shut up like usual. Not when she has just been useful. Let her scream her head off, if she wants; he won’t be staying much longer to listen. He’s not sure she knows he is the one shouting back. Sirius remembers the state he was in those first years, when he didn’t even notice Bella arriving. But, enough. It’s time.

* * * 

Sirius knows he shouldn’t. He has a plan and he needs to stick to it, but he can’t help himself. Privet Drive, Number Four, Little Whinging. That’s another titbit he caught over the years; from Fudge, he thinks. The man talks and talks and talks; Sirius will never understand how such a ridiculous creature could ever be a good politician. But then, he’s probably just a puppet of the real power at the Ministry.

Much to Sirius’s chagrin, the child looks terrible – thin and ragged. Not at all like James; Harry Potter is slender and more graceful in his movements, just like Lily. Then he dashes across the street, away from the house, and suddenly he’s James’s son again, more so than before due to the glasses and brooding frown. Oh, and he has style! He has inflated the aunt; shamefully, the Marauders never thought of inflating anyone.

Sirius just meant to take a peek, but now there is a whole new world of possibilities, and Sirius has always been king of improvisation. He steps out from the trees. Harry gasps and startles, but then actually _moves forward_ , clutching his wand as if he has a chance against a grown wizard. Sirius already likes the boy!

That is why he can’t really help it; he transforms. “Hello, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes go wide, frightened, but he clutches his wand in front of him and lifts his chin. “You’re that bloke from the TV. How do you know my name?” he demands – actually _demands_ – an explanation from someone he thinks is a dangerous criminal.

Harry got that from James, Sirius thinks; over-riding curiosity and no instinct for self-preservation at all. Sirius warms to his godson a little more. He tells Harry that. “You know you look a lot like your father, don’t you?”

Harry freezes. “You knew my dad?”

Sirius doesn’t like what he sees, not one bit. The way Harry has inadvertently lowered his guard, just a little, infers how desperate he is to hear about his father; which means that _no one_ has ever told him about James! That doesn’t say much for Harry’s relatives or their so-called care; if you add the physical state of the boy, they might as well be the Black’s Muggle family branch!

Sirius doesn’t want to lose his temper with Harry, so he settles for, “Yes. I knew your mother, as well.” 

Harry’s expression softens, wistfully, and Sirius’s anger starts reaching dangerous levels. Harry seems to catch himself then and the wand is raised again, accompanied by a defiant glint in his eyes. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

Sirius wants to tell him, _You don’t_ and _Never trust any strangers_ , but that flaw in Harry’s upbringing, revealing in itself, might turn out in Sirius’s favour. He hopes James can forgive him one day, for using his child as an unknowing trump, but it is for him, Lily and Harry that Sirius is thinking of doing what he is thinking of doing. Sirius knows James would avenge Sirius’s death, just like Sirius is planning on avenging his, and that he would make sure Sirius’s loved ones would be taken care of.

“Well, I’ve got a bunch of pictures at my house, if you’d like to see them,” Sirius suggests, although he doesn’t really feel like returning to Grimmauld Place. He knows the wards in the house have held through two Muggle world wars, so it will do just fine.

Harry snorts. “Yeah, and I’m supposed to go with you alone? I do watch TV, you know? I know about blokes like you who kidnap kids and sell them for slavery.”

It takes Sirius a while to remember what a TV is. Then, he has to bite his tongue not to snap at Harry; he doesn’t need to know yet just how screwed up the world really is. Instead, he says, “You can’t tell me that the risk isn’t worth leaving these Muggles?”

Harry presses his lips tightly together. “Being alive is, though. But I want to know more about my dad,” he adds hesitantly.

Sirius was never a patient man, but he was always a smart one. He can learn from his mistakes. He now knows that patience is needed and that he has nothing to gain from losing his temper too soon, like he did with Peter, the little rat. He had every intention of wooing Harry slowly to his side, but there’s a high screech in the street, and Sirius turns his head to see the Knight Bus driving at full speed in their direction. As if cued by the bus’ arrival, there is a cracking noise in the street, typical of Apparition.

There is no real time to think about it, so Sirius takes advantage of Harry’s distraction, grabs his arm, takes his wand, and Apparates them away. The last thing he hears in Privet Drive is Harry’s sharp intake of breath.

* * *

Harry wrenches his arm away and presses himself against the wall once they land in the entryway of Grimmauld Place, Number 12.

“What the hell do you want from me? Are you working for Voldemort?” Despite saying the name that few dare to, Harry looks scared; he looks like he is thirteen and just got into something over his head. He is staring at his wand in Sirius’s hand with a glare that belongs to Lily and a scowl that belongs to James. Sirius raises his hands to show Harry that he means no harm, but Harry flinches away. “Get away from me!”

“Who’s there?!” screams someone from further into the house.

Sirius knows that voice. “Fuck!” he curses heartedly. Harry becomes very still.

“Who dares to come into my house? Show yourself!”

Harry is glaring, as he asks, “Who’s that?”

“Are you a Black? Show yourself, I say!”

“What does she want?” Harry insists.

“You do not belong here, do you? I should have known. Get out! Get out right now, before I show you what Blacks do to intruders—!”

“Who’s she?” Harry screams over the racket.

Sirius feels like pressing his hands over his ears as Harry has done.

“Get out, get out, _get out_ , you filthy thief! _Get out right now_!”

“Fuck!” he curses again. He can’t think; there’s too much noise. He can’t believe she actually nailed herself to the wall. He really doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life listening to her drivel—

“I know you’re there, you piece of filth! Get out!”

—he just got away from Dementors who made him listen to her. He is tired, he hates her, why can’t she shut up! “ _Fuck_!” he repeats, succumbing to the temptation of closing his eyes and covering his ears.

Suddenly, Sirius finds himself shoved into the wall behind him. For half a moment, he thinks it was she who pushed him, but when he looks up, Harry is running down the hallway, up the stairs. Sirius scrambles upright and motions to go after the boy, lest he hurt himself on the death traps his mother mistook for decorations.

“Sirius? Sirius Black? You ungrateful child! Are you bringing your Mudblood whores home again? I thought I’d taught you a lesson, _boy_! Come back here, boy. _Come back, I say_!” Sirius knows he should go after Harry; he shouldn’t give the boy a chance to run away. But Merlin! he hates that woman, her constant nagging and constant underestimating him. He’s worth ten of her. So, he goes back, stares harshly at her. She glares right back. “ _Traitor_!” she spits.

Sirius feels disgust well inside him. He wants to tear the portrait into pieces with his bare hands; just like he would have liked to do to the real her. Some mother she was. He grabs the curtain. He’ll have his revenge. “Goodbye, Mother. _Incendio_!”

Walburga Black starts cackling. “You thought that would work, you sad excuse of a Black? It _won’t_!”

“Reducto! Diffindo! Confringo!” Walburga laughs harder. “Fuck it!” Sirius drops the wand and starts tugging on the curtains around her portrait.

“Stop that!” Walburga screeches in rage. “Stop that, boy! The pains I went through to bring such dirt to this world! I deny you, you hear me? You’re not my blood, you’re not my—.”

The rest of her tirade is muffled by black cloth.

Still shaken, Sirius picks the wand and goes after Harry. Except the kid is nowhere to be seen. “Come on, Black. If you were a kid and afraid, where would you go?”

Sirius searches everywhere, even in the attic, where the old servant-rooms used to be. Unlike the rest of the house’s windows, these show the street outside and can be opened. It is the perfect escape route if you know how to use it, as Sirius could have attested in his youth. Besides, the bedrooms are small and cosy, Sirius always thought, seeing as they were fit for house-elves. Harry is not there.

Sirius sits on the butler’s bed. Harry is gone. “Fuck!” he curses. How could he have let the kid run away? No one will believe him now; he might as well have a sign on his forehead saying, ‘Murderer and kidnapper’. Harry will surely bear witness to Sirius’s ill-will towards him. “Fuck, James, what do I do now?”

Sirius has the original plan, but there’s a feeling of tightness in his chest at the thought of Harry being afraid of him. He _should_ be, and if Sirius ever catches him before he escapes, he should probably encourage it, until Harry is too afraid to try to run away, just until he can explain things properly, but he doesn’t really want to do that.

This mess is all Pettigrew’s fault, anyway! And Remus’s for not believing in Sirius . . .

Merlin, but where _is_ Remus? How has he been coping with the full-moons, without his friends, without Padfoot to play tug-of-war in the Forbidden Forest? He probably hasn’t smiled much in the past twelve years, not the carefree laugh he always let out with the Marauders. Or maybe he has. Maybe he has moved on with his life, lying to everyone about his relationship with Sirius. Maybe he doesn’t care anymore. Maybe he lost the shy smile Sirius was always rewarded with, when he showed up unannounced in Remus’s first flat, a one-bedroom dump in Diagon Alley, which was mostly shared, anyway, judging by the amount of shopping and spending the night Sirius did back then.

It’s all Dumbledore’s fault, as well, with his half-truths and unreliable set of morals.

Sirius is just so tired of having the world against him. When had his luck left him— _them_?

Merlin, but he misses Lily’s lectures and James’s jokes. He misses them both so much. He doesn’t want them to be dead. He doesn’t want to take care of their child for them, doesn’t want to be responsible for a child. But he’ll have to. He won’t accept anyone else as Harry’s guardian, since everyone else apparently doesn’t care, but he doesn’t think he can be responsible for a child and not screw them up. What he wants is all of it just— _gone_. He misses them so much.

Harry would have been a wonderful advantage in what is to come. If he had Lily and James’s child, and the kid liked him, he could have made people listen to him. Instead, he couldn’t even keep Harry with him for _one_ hour. In the old days, it would have been piece of cake keeping a kid happy; everyone loved him. He used to be so charming. And now, he’s a wreck. He couldn’t even keep Harry with him.

There’s a noise in the room. Sirius has always had a very good hearing, so he has no trouble locating the source of noise. It comes from under the butler’s bed. Sirius kneels, lifts the covers and peeks. Harry gasps. He looks like he is sweating in fear, but he looks back defiantly, as he tries to blend into the wall.

“Come out, Harry,” Sirius prompts, in what he hopes is a no-nonsense voice like Rem—like he heard dozens of times just before curfew.

Harry glares. “No! Get away from me, you crazy bugger!”

“Harry. You can’t stay under there forever,” Sirius points out reasonably. Inside, he is soaring. Harry isn’t gone, he is right there. There is still hope for Sirius.

Harry gets that look, the one that clearly says, “I don’t care what you say, Potter, I’m not going out with you.” Sirius got very familiar with that look during his teenage years, which means he knows how useless it is to try to reason with it. He has no choice. He draws Harry’s wand and points it at him. “Out, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes become stormy green. He slowly crawls from under the bed, expression distrustful and resigned, and stands tensely in front of Sirius, eyeing his own wand warily. Sirius grabs him by the baggy jumper, just in case Harry’s defiance prompts some reckless, Gryffindor-ish stunt and marches him downstairs.

Part of his mind has the sense to enquire, “You’re still here?”

Harry shrugs. “We’re too high for me to leave through the windows. But you seemed to think that I had, so I hid in the next bedroom and was going to wait until you were asleep, or something, to get my wand and leave through the front door.”

That is when Sirius notices that, sometime during his reverie, the sky has cleared into the purplish light of dawn. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the use he has for Harry’s recklessness, but really—has the kid not one ounce of self-preservation? That kind of personal philosophy can get you killed—or in Azkaban. He might as well teach Harry a couple of things while he still can.

“I don’t suppose you have any food around here, do you?” asks Harry, all of a sudden.

Sirius starts. Food? Now that’s something he hasn’t thought about in some time. “I don’t think so.”

Harry’s face betrays his dismay. “Oh. Of course, you’re not going to feed your victim.”

Sirius growls and shakes him by the neck. “You’re only the victim because you won’t listen to what I say.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. You probably have Voldemort in the back of your head, anyway. Just so you know, you won’t get away with it. Ron and Hermione will know I’m missing, and they’ll tell Dumbledore. You haven’t got a chance.”

Sirius snaps. “Dumbledore? _Dumbledore_? Think again, kid, because that man only thinks of everybody in terms of how useful they are. And I daresay you’re not that special.”

Dumbledore didn’t even care that he left Harry with a family Darker than most, despite the fact that they were Muggles. Sirius knows a thing or two about Darkness and Harry reeks of it; anger, resentment, yet there is something below that Sirius cannot understand, something pure. Sirius bets that Dumbledore has coddled Harry, but doesn’t care in the least. Dumbledore does that. He praises you, makes you feel ten-feet tall, but it’s nothing _personal_ ; you just happened to be what he needed at the time.

Harry really is awfully thin, Sirius realises, and then has to wonder how long it has been since he’s eaten. Damned Muggles; he’s not in the least bit happy with Lily’s sister right then. “I could use some food myself,” he says cheerfully. “We could go outside to get some, and then go get your school stuff from your aunt’s place.”

Harry stares at him from above his glasses. “You know you’re wanted, right?”

Sirius snorts. No, he’s not. No one cares about Sirius Black, the rightful heir of that Dark, Dark family. No one has in a long time – not since those stolen, fearful nights, in Remus’s decaying first flat, with the sound of Stunning Spells and Killing Curses being shouted over in the Diagon Alley below – and maybe Sirius had his hand in that, since he is the one who doubted first. He bets everyone wondered how they didn’t see it, how evil Sirius was. He is a Black, after all. Well, _everyone_ is blind and stupid and untrustworthy. But that’s not what Harry means. “No one will suspect a boy with a dog now, will they?”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “You’ll give me my wand? So I can get some food?”

Sirius gives him a knowing look. “So you can run on me? No, thanks.” Harry’s face falls. “And don’t think I won’t bite you if you try anything stupid.” Harry glares. “Oh, by the way, the dog’s name is Padfoot. Call him that. Not Sirius.”

He has half a mind to tell Harry the story about the Marauders, but now’s not the time.

“I can’t believe I was stupid enough to even talk to you in Privet Drive,” Harry mutters defiantly.

Sirius ignores him. He thinks he understands why parents do that sometimes. They have the upper hand. They can afford to be magnanimous and let the kids sulk to their heart’s content. It’s sad that the thought warms his heart, even though Harry is, to all purposes, a victim of kidnapping. Sirius will get to that eventually and explain things to Harry. Now is not the time. Now, they have a plan – food, sleep and then explanations.

Sirius had almost forgotten what it’s like to have a partner in mischief.


	3. Memories

In mid August, Sirius realises that Hogwarts will be in session soon.

It’ll be impossible to hide from the public that Harry Potter’s missing after that. That means that people will surely turn to blame him – that they are right is neither here nor there – and so Sirius should probably get his plan going soon enough.

Sirius needs to get to Hogwarts. Maybe he could send Harry there; someone who can nab the rat with none the wiser. The problem is that, although their relationship has warmed since Sirius took Harry from Privet Drive, enough that sometimes Sirius almost forgets that Harry still thinks he’s under threat, Harry can’t be trusted yet, he can tell.

Sirius has told Harry that he and James used to be friends, which is why he wants to protect Harry. He tells Harry about the Marauders, about how he and James once got pulled over by the Muggle police while chasing Death Eaters – Harry doesn’t know what they are, so Sirius explains it – and about his kickass motorcycle. He also tells Harry about Voldemort’s first rise to power; about the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse, and about the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry deserves to know all of these things, so he can be ready when— _if_ the time comes.

Sirius talks a lot about those days. It seems like it was only yesterday that everything was fine, that they were happy and Sirius’s only concern was to hide from Lily that he had been teaching Harry how to fly in the living room; that they used to be unbeatable.

Despite his pride and cheek, Harry seems glad to hear about his family; he seems to believe what Sirius tells him, but there is still the glimmer of defiance in his eyes and, sometimes, something that looks like _pity_.

Sirius hates those times. It usually ends with him sending Harry to his room.

Sirius is happy, or as happy as he can be after Azkaban. Sirius is giddy with excitement for all the things he and Harry can do together; just like he used to with James before everything went pear-shaped. It’s been a while since Sirius had someone to take care of, and someone to watch his back in return.

Sirius is no longer alone. He has to keep Harry on Mum’s Safe Boy Spells to make sure he doesn’t run away, though, and takes some mean pleasure in letting Harry know that he put toddler protection spells on him.

It’s not so bad, when Sirius thinks about it. Maybe he could take Harry with him and run away. Harry doesn’t need to go to school, anyway, Sirius can tell him all he needs to know; how to become an Animagus and how to woo a girl. And he has enough money to support Harry and himself through three lifetimes.

The thing that makes him completely dismiss this plan comes in the Prophet, however. It’s just a small article, announcing the new staff at Hogwarts. Sirius cannot believe that Dumbledore has entrusted Snivellus with children. He’s a Dark wizard, for Merlin’s sake. It is when he reaches the end that he has to sit down.

The last line says, “DADA Professor: Remus J. Lupin.” Sirius can’t run.

* * * 

It’s August, 21st, when Sirius feels the first attack on his wards. He can tell that someone is lurking in the junction between Number 11 and Number 13. What’s worse, there are not a lot of people who know where the Black House is and that narrows the intruder’s identity to one of the people Sirius doesn’t want to see; the ones that are after Harry.

It is dawn, so Harry must still be asleep. Sirius is fast. He doesn’t want to give Harry a chance to see the person, maybe try harder to leave if it is someone he knows. He dons his clothes quickly – it took some soul searching to wear clothes that used to belong to his father – then contemplates waking Harry. He decides against it, because he really can’t face fighting that battle.

Whoever it is would never be able to get in, but Sirius and Harry would also be unable to get out. Sirius needs to do that for what he is planning. Luckily for him, Harry’s a teenager, so he fell into bed fully clothed the night before. Sirius Apparates them away.

* * *

Harry could sulk for England, Sirius thinks. He has been doing so since he was startled out of his bed and into a wild clearing in the woods of Godric’s Hollow.

Even after Sirius explains the importance of the place and Harry gets an eager glint in his eye, he still glares at Sirius and looks longingly at his wand. Sirius feels a bit of a heel, because taking a wizard’s wand is one of the greatest offences he can think of, but he can’t risk having Harry leave him. Despite the fact that Harry is the best company he has kept in twelve years and the great leverage he is for Sirius’s revenge – which he really needs to get going – these woods are inhabited by all sorts of unfriendly creatures.

Harry’s scowl only deepens when Sirius starts stealing food from the village.

That he has to sleep on the floor of the forest under the makeshift shelter Sirius built with Harry’s wand, doesn’t bother him. That he has to bathe in the river and use the woods for a toilet doesn’t make him bat an eye, but heaven forbid Sirius from stealing.

This puts Harry in a whole new category. Lily would have frowned upon the stealing and categorically refused to sleep in the woods for no reason other than Sirius being a useless berk who couldn’t make a plan to save his life; on another hand, James wouldn’t have minded the stealing or the enforced camping trip. Harry seems to have a whole new set of morals.

Since Sirius is a bit of a pushover for people he cares about, he sighs and Padfoot goes in search of place that has food and a place for Sirius to leave some money.

It is on one of his trips around the village in Padfoot’s form that Sirius gets an idea.

The Piemaker’s Inn is run by Muggles, but they have a history of wizards and witches in the family. Sirius and James used to be friends with one of the Piemakers’ youngest daughters, Maddie. He almost doubts she will recognise him now. While he’s had quite a few showers to wash away the filth of Azkaban, he is still so thin he might as well be a skeleton, his hair has none of its previous healthy shine and the bags under his eyes look like bruises. Sirius used to be handsome, but now he hates to see himself in the mirror. He doubts very much that the Piemakers will feel differently; what he needs is a glamour to prevent anyone else from recognising him from the Wanted posters, maybe make him look more like his old self. Maddie, though, he wants Maddie to know who has come for her; she has to have heard what Sirius supposedly did, so she will do as he says.

The inn is very much like Sirius remembers, except that it looks a bit older. The woman behind the counter is a bit younger than Sirius remembers, but she looks about the same. It then occurs to Sirius that this is not Mrs Piemaker, but actually the daughter Maddie. She looks like she’s in her mid-thirties, body fuller and with more lines on her pretty face. When did she get old? There is a little boy prattling by her side; he has her eyes, so he must be her son. Will she remember Sirius?

“Hi, Maddie.”

Maddie looks up casually, then startles violently. So far, so good. She places herself in front of the kid, as if to protect him. There is a noise to the left and a plump man comes in, carrying a stack of chopped wood. He pauses when he sees Sirius.

“Black? Sirius Black?” he demands with the beginnings of a frown. “I haven’t seen you since the Halloween of 1981. I thought you were dead, too.”

Sirius is filled with dread when the man first recognises him, but an unbidden warmness spreads through him afterwards. Maddie frowns, but doesn’t reach for her wand, so Sirius pretends everything is as it should be. Liam doesn’t _know_. “You’re so glad to see me that the first thing you do as where I’ve been?” he demands.

Liam looks reluctant for a second, eyes haunted as he looks from Maddie to Sirius, and he looks like he is thinking fast, but then he guffaws and moves forward to embrace Sirius. Sirius thinks he might have held on for a bit longer than appropriate, but he hasn’t touched another person in twelve years. Liam is grinning when they break apart. “So, what happened to James and that pretty wife of his?” Liam asks.

Sirius feels the grin slip from his face. “They,” he chokes on the next word. He doesn’t think he can say it, he never said it aloud – if he doesn’t say it then it isn’t true – but Harry is waiting in the forest barely protected and denial is not Sirius’s thing anyway. He clears his throat. “They died. Twelve years ago, on Halloween night.”

Liam looks shocked, then sympathetic. “Sorry, mate. Oh, wait!” His eyes go wide. “It was _them_? At Golden Cottage? Christ, those fuckers! They killed so many people that night.”

Sirius doesn’t really want to talk about it. Somehow, hearing it like this, talked about like a regular murder, a random attack by hooligans, is a terrible offence to James and Lily’s memory. Of course, that is what it _was_ , but it hurts. They were meant for better than that. “Yeah, it happened. I’m taking care of their kid, now.” Liam seems to understand, because he doesn’t resist the change of subject. “I actually came to see if you still do takeaway. Harry and I are camping just outside the village. Except that Maddie here doesn’t seem to recognise me,” he adds, shooting what he hopes is a warning glance towards Maddie. She pales visibly.

Liam’s expression shutters. “Maddie died, mate, on Halloween night, twelve years ago.”

Sirius’s world shakes on its foundations. Sweet Maddie, so kind and funny; the only one Sirius could enrol to prank Remus during Order meetings, after Lily got hold of James’s balls together with his ring finger. That he hasn’t mourned her – any of them, the ones that got hurt with James and Lily – seems terribly unfair. It is all terribly unfair. “I—I’m sorry, Liam,” he offers, hoping he sounds less hollow than the words are.

Then something occurs to him. If the woman behind the counter is not Maddie, then it means it is her twin. Seer, they call her, but she is just extremely empathetic; magical in her own right, but not the type of magic taught at Hogwarts. That means she can see right through Sirius’s glamour; she knows, and that’s why she looks so scared. He looks up. This might work out all the same. “Maggie?”

Maggie doesn’t look scared, but very sad, weary. She has sent her son away and is now looking at Sirius with that damned _pity_ in her eyes. He just barely refrains from scowling at her. What does she know? What does that empathetic brain of hers tell her? “Well,” Maggie says, voice rough with emotion, “I’m sure I can fix something to take with you, Sirius. Can you wait?”

Sirius nods, a little bemused.

Less than half an hour later, Maggie is placing a basket with a steaming stew, bread and fruit in his hands. She refuses his money, but insists on walking him back to his campsite. He knows she can see what he looks like, and wants to tell him something, so he really has no choice, lest she take matters into her own hands and summon the appropriate authorities.

“What happened, Sirius?” she asks when they enter the woods.

Sirius laughs bitterly. “That is a very good question. I don’t think I know myself.”

“Well, I know you: tell me you didn’t try to avenge your friends’ deaths,” she dares him like Maddie would have.

Sirius almost lies, but then he realises that she is shorter than him, a Muggle and there is no one around. He doesn’t have to be afraid of her. Of what she thinks she knows. “No. I was arrested for their accessory murder.”

Maggie looks aghast. “That is not true!”

“Plus twelve murders, is what they said, but it was really just for James and Lily’s betrayal.”

Maggie frowns. “That’s impossible. You were crazy about them. You’re innocent.”

Sirius is silent for a while, but smiles despite himself. “Thanks. I am,” he mutters, as they reach the clearing where he and Harry are camping.

Harry is sitting on the floor, clothes dirty, hair a mess, and a disgruntled expression on his face. He scowls when he hears them approaching. “I can’t believe you took so long! I thought you had left me here.”

Sirius’s heart constricts at that, mainly because he can hear the fear in Harry’s voice. He forces himself to snort. “Yeah, right. I took all this trouble to keep you with me just so I could leave you here.”

Harry whirls around, obviously planning a sharp retort, only to stop short at the sight of Maggie. Sirius is happy to see that he shifts closer to Sirius before he catches himself, scowls and crosses his arms defiantly. “Hi,” he mutters to Maggie, but doesn’t smile. His eyes find the basket and he has to visibly restrain himself from snatching it.

Maggie seems to notice, because she smiles kindly and holds it out, saying, “Here, child. Go on and eat, while I take Sirius over there for a little chat, all right?”

There is no doubt in Sirius’s mind that he has to do as she says. Once they are out of hearing reach, Sirius turns to her. “What?”

Maggie doesn’t look kind, surprised, fearful or any of the things he has seen of her face since they first met. She looks fierce and resolute. It is an expression that Sirius saw a lot on Maddie. It suits them. “You actually took the kid!” she hisses. “My sister used to tell me how fucking reckless you were, but you actually took a child from his home and are forcing him to live in the _woods_?”

Sirius straightens in indignation. “You have no idea what his home was like!” he shoots back just as quietly. “They were bullying him. He was miserable.”

“No, _you_ were miserable.”

“They didn’t feed him and they didn’t care for him. That’s not what James and Lily would have wanted for their kid.”

Maggie sighs. “Listen, even if that is true, does he look any better now, sleeping in the wild with a wanted criminal? He is a child. He’s scared and he’s afraid of you.”

Sirius snorts. As if Harry is afraid of anything. “No he’s not. He tried to hex me once and still hasn’t given up on escaping.”

“Sirius,” she says firmly, “this is no life for a child. He’s cold, he’s hungry and he’s scared. I know you are, too, but you can’t _lean_ on a child.” Sirius feels she has just punched him. “I don’t know why you are doing this, but if you want to take proper care of Harry, for your friends’ sake or for Harry’s, this is not the way.”

“I—I’m not trying to—.”

“Just think about what I’ve said,” says Maggie wearily. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll give you more food,” she adds, before waving to Harry and disappearing on the trail.

* * * 

The graveyard is bathed in gold when they kneel in front of the twin gravestones. The weather is a bit chilled, but neither pays it much notice.

Sirius finds that he can’t look at Harry. The boy is so sad, he looks so broken with thoughts of what could have been, that Sirius is painfully reminded that he was not the only one who lost someone. Harry did, too, and what is worse, he doesn’t have any good memories with which to ease the bitter sting of loss. He doesn’t need Sirius, but rather it is the other way around; Sirius needs Harry, because Harry is his only connection to the family he lost. Maggie is right: he cannot do this to Harry; he cannot expect Harry to be an adult like James, no matter how mature and brave he acts.

Harry sniffs quietly. He looks more real than ever.

In the end, it’s because he is not looking at Harry, and instead looks around the area with guilty restlessness, that Sirius sees him before he is seen himself. It feels like the floor disappeared from beneath his feet, his stomach dropped ten feet all of a sudden and all thought flees his head. All of it induced simply by the sight of Remus Lupin.

Sirius should have known that Dumbledore is nothing but a manipulative bastard; he should have known that Dumbledore would make use of Sirius’s weaknesses, and he is enough of a Gryffindor to admit that Remus will always be one those. He will always make Sirius remember what used to be, what was lost and whose fault it was. How did either of them know where to find Sirius, anyway?

Sirius knows they can’t stay a moment longer. Not if he wants to keep Harry with him. Even if he should just give him up. It is a choice he can’t help but to make. He loathes the thought of interrupting Harry’s grieving, but they need to go, now. Once again, he leaves explanations for later, grabs Harry and Apparates them to their campsite.

* * *

“What the _hell_! Can you stop doing that?” Harry shouts, as soon as they land.

“Harry.”

“ _What_?” Harry snaps, fruitlessly dusting his dirty clothes.

Sirius runs a hand through his dirty hair. Maggie offered to let them stay at the inn, but Sirius refused. He doesn’t think he can be around people without them knowing what he is, what he has done. So, they are still relying on the small river nearby for their personal hygiene. Harry is looking at Sirius expectantly.

Sirius clears his throat. “Look, I—I’m sorry. I just couldn’t leave you with your aunt, okay? Your parents would have killed me if I did. I owe them, all right? So, I have to take care of you.”

Harry’s face grows thunderous. “Well, if it’s that much of a chore, you don’t have to take care of me. I can take care of myself, you know? So, consider your debt repaid!”

Sirius blinks at Harry’s outrage. “Harry?”

“Well, it’s too much to ask, isn’t it? That someone actually sees me for me instead of being James and Lily’s son. You know I’m actually pretty great at Transfiguration? Like you are? I bet neither my mum nor my dad were.”

“Actually, your dad was an Animagus, too.”

Harry is positively seething. “Fuck _you_!” he shouts and stomps away.

Harry doesn’t get very far, because he runs into a shadowy figure at the outer edge of the clearing. Sirius’s heart skips a bit, and he draws Harry’s wand faster than he thought possible. “Sirius!” Harry shouts in alarm, struggling against the man who holds him.

“Let go of the kid,” Sirius says calmly. He doesn’t need to see the man’s face to know who it is. He knows the posture, that little tilt of the head, the shape of that body. His heart starts beating faster and his palms become sweaty.

Remus steps into the clearing. His stare is cold and unforgiving. “Sirius.”

“Remus,” Sirius replies in kind. “How did you find us?”

“Maggie Piemaker. I met her during the full moon twelve years ago. Smart girl, knew who I was, even in human form. She knows I was—I _am_ James and Lily’s friend. She thought you might need some help.” He stares at Sirius a moment longer. “If you mean here, at Godric’s Hollow, though . . . . I _know_ you. I know where you feel safe. I’ve been watching Grimmauld Place and the Shrieking Shack, as well.”

Sirius would gladly wring Maggie neck right then. There is something to be said about good intentions. “Well, thanks ever so much, but I don’t need it. Let go of the kid.”

“No. Harry’s coming home with me.”

Sirius guffaws, although it’s not funny at all. “Oh, that’s rich! Did you wake up and decided to grow a backbone? Because Harry could have used it before he was sent to Lily’s horrible sister. You remember her from the engagement party.”

Remus’s face stretches tighter. He has many more lines than he used to, lines that speak of an age well beyond his years. Sirius would have comforted him once, before James and Lily, before Remus’s disappearance, before Azkaban. Now, the sight of Remus is like a sharp knife to the heart. Does Remus even know Sirius is innocent? “What about you, Sirius? Woke up one day and decided not to be a traitor anymore?”

Obviously not. “I’m innocent,” he blurts before he can help himself.

Whatever Remus was expecting, that wasn’t it. He looks taken aback. “What?”

“Sirius, what is he talking about?” asked Harry. 

Sirius doesn’t take his eyes off Remus. “I’ll tell you later, Harry.”

“No, you won’t,” Remus contradicts, “because he is not going anywhere with you. Did you really think I’d let you kill James and Lily’s child? You already took enough from me.”

“Sirius?” Harry pressed on.

Sirius feels himself go pale. “Oh, really? Why the sudden burst of concern?”

“It’s not sudden!” Remus’s snaps. “I couldn’t take care of him, they didn’t let me.”

“Convenient, innit?”

“I’m a _werewolf_ , you prat! Dumbledore said he tried, but they didn’t let me take Harry.”

Harry gasps, and Remus lets go of him as if burned, face ashen at the sight of Harry’s shocked face. Harry doesn’t wait a moment, before running to Sirius’s side. It warms Sirius so much he feels he could fight the Dementors of Azkaban with this feeling.

Remus takes a moment, but then composes himself, wand held firmly. “What do you mean, you’re innocent? You killed Peter! You sold James and Lily to Voldemort! I can’t believe I ever called you my friend,” he adds, tiredly.

“You did what?” Harry exclaims, moving away from Sirius. The boy looks as if he’s about to pass out. He keeps looking from Remus to Sirius, as if trying to decide who the lesser evil is and coming up blank.

Sirius almost feels sorry for him. But there are more pressing matters. “No! No, Remus. A decoy. Peter was the Secret Keeper. He’s at Hogwarts, he’s a little boy’s rat.”

“Sirius, come on!”

“Really! James and I thought you were the traitor. You _know_ I’d never betray my friends! You know that I’d rather die that do that to James and Lily.” Sirius looks at Harry. “I swear, Harry, I did not betray your mum and dad.”

Harry nods. “I believe you.” Sirius’s throat constricts. Nothing is ever this easy.

Remus looks even more shocked than Sirius feels. “You thought _I_ was the traitor? That’s why you stopped replying to my Floo calls? Why the Order stopped contacting me?” Remus looks as if he might cry. “You _bastard_!” he snarls, instead. “You and James, both! After all you did for me, you thought I’d be that easily bought? That I wouldn’t have put up a fight? I spent twelve years fucking _hoping_ that you had a good excuse for what you did—.”

That last bit doesn’t sit well with Sirius. “Then why didn’t you fight for me? Why didn’t you come? I waited! You knew I’d never do that to James and Lily! You know—.”

“There was evidence! There was evidence and nobody listened to me! But _you_!” Remus is too far gone to keep his defensive posture. He is crying, angry tears that make his eyes brighter. “You had no proof, nothing on me being the traitor, but that didn’t stop you, did it? And look what happened. Why didn’t you _trust_ me? You killed them!” 

Sirius can’t listen to more. He knows Remus is right, Remus is always right. He is crying too, Harry looks scared, and this has all become too much. Sirius can’t hear another word, so he takes Harry’s arm and Apparates them away.


	4. Trust and Betrayal

As soon as they land in dry leaves, Harry wrenches his arm away from Sirius and scrambles back in the dirt. “You lied to me,” he accuses. “You _lied_ to me.”

Sirius’s growls, but doesn’t reply. He has more important things to do, like scope out their latest refuge, and ward it for them. Then, he needs to gather his wits and make a proper plan, because his last one has been altered on the fly so much it’s barely a plan at all any longer, and now there is Remus after them. Bloody Remus Lupin. Sirius is not sure whether to laugh or cry.

“Fuck,” he mutters instead, mostly to himself. 

The cabin is an old Black one he is thinking of, so far to the north that it is almost near Hogwarts. If one discounts the massive mountains that is, and Wizarding folk always do; if it is within Apparation limits then it is close by. Sirius remembers it being sturdy enough to resist winter storms, so he guesses it is probably still standing.

“Come on, Harry. He’ll have to find a roof for the night, before it gets dark.” Harry doesn’t move. Sirius does not have the patience to deal with a sulking child right now.

The thought makes him stop. A child. That is what Harry is; he’s a child. Merlin be damned, but this is a nice example of how low Sirius has sunk. Threatening a child, like a common bully. He sighs, and sits down next to Harry. “Look,” he says, ignoring Harry’s wary expression. “I know there are things I haven’t told you, and I’m sorry, but we really need to get out of the woods now. I promise I’ll explain later, all right?”

Harry still looks suspicious, but he nods curtly and gets to his feet. “Will you give me my wand?”

Sirius would like to, as a proof of good will, but self-preservation wins this time. “Not now. I can’t have you running away on me in the middle of the forest. Maybe when we get to the cabin. Is that okay?”

Harry pouts, then shrugs. “Fine.”

Sirius can’t help but to smile a little. Harry might be mad at him and feeling distrustful, but he must trust Sirius, or else he wouldn’t follow. But he does. Everything is okay.

* * * 

Sirius is on his feet and halfway through the door as soon as the first twig outside cracks. Despite the rain, Padfoot’s hearing gave him the warning, but Sirius didn’t stay a dog long enough to pick up clues via scent. What he knows is that whoever is at their door is approaching and sounds heavy and what is worse, not human.

Sirius glances at Harry, whose eyes shine in the darkness, wary and afraid, and it means that Harry can feel the danger as well. “If you have the chance, you run, Harry, you hear me? As far north as you can.”

Harry nods and clutches his blankets tighter. Sirius gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile, but he rather suspects he lost the ability to do so in Azkaban. He takes Harry’s wand after a nod from boy, but it doesn’t work for him as well as his own would, and he doesn’t know that he can defend them both.

Why can’t he _think_ , for once? He suspects who— _what_ is outside. It seems the whole day was converging to this. He knows how keen its sense of smell is, how desperate the man inside is to save Harry. He knows this, because he knows the man better than he knows himself. He has been expecting this since the full moon rose in the night sky.

The storm roars. The thunder echoes in the valley, and the supernatural howl that follows shakes the house to its foundations. Harry pales and shifts closer to Sirius, as if he knows that the beds they are using as a shield would do nothing against the creature that is waiting for them. It starts scratching the door, growling.

Harry shivers, then jumps in a crouching position when, BOOM, a loud bang echoes in house as a heavy body is thrown against the door.

 _It won’t hold_ , Sirius thinks, but says to Harry, “Don’t worry; my father’s wards are impenetrable.” Harry nods but doesn’t relax, his jaw doesn’t unclench, ready to defend himself and, judging from his position, Sirius as well. Sirius realises that this boy is ready to defend someone just because he can. While Sirius is being selfish and a coward and hiding behind a mattress because he doesn’t want to see Moony yet.

BOOM!

Sirius doesn’t like who he has become, at all, but he’s not too late. He gets up.

“What are you doing?” Harry demands in a hushed whisper.

BOOM!

“I’ll lure the werewolf away.” Harry shakes his head in confusion and disbelief, and Sirius hastens to explain, “Werewolves are not dangerous to other animals. I’ll lure him away and come back in the morning.” He clasps Harry’s shoulder. “You stay safe.” So saying, Sirius jumps over their makeshift bunker and transforms.

BOOM!

Harry is smiling lightly at the sight, but then remembers himself and nods with a seriousness Sirius doesn’t ever remember possessing, even when he was fighting a war. Once outside, he sees him, the mighty wolf from his youth, frame taunt and tense, leaning forward slightly with the intention to attack.

It’s the eyes that make Sirius stop. They do not glow yellow like Moony’s, but are the sweetest shade of amber, very furious amber now that Sirius takes the time to notice. Still, it is Moony, beautiful in silver fur. Padfoot almost stops to watch for a while.

Moony growls, and starts moving. They circle each other slowly, until Moony has his back to the cabin. He bares his teeth angrily. That is when Sirius gets it. Somehow, someway, this is not Moony in front of him, but Remus. Remus, in wolf form, who is trying to protect Harry from Sirius when neither of them can yield to anger or sorrow.

With a mighty roar, Padfoot launches himself forward.

Sirius doesn’t want to do this. This is Remus, not Moony, but if he stops and transforms, Remus will defeat him and run with Harry. Remus is angry, rightfully so, and he will do what is best for Harry. Sirius can’t let him. Not yet. So, he bares his teeth and sinks them into the wolf’s throat, and flings Moony across the clearing. That is how he becomes certain that this is not Moony. Moony could have torn Padfoot’s throat open with a single attack. Remus cannot.

There’s an almost inaudible whimper in the doorway and Padfoot looks up to see Harry, eyes wide, but not scared, and then horrified when he sees the blood pouring from the wolf’s neck. He makes a strangled sound and runs down the stairs.

“Bloody hell, Sirius! He’s hurt!”

Padfoot is frozen to the spot, dumbfounded.

Harry has to know that the creature he is coddling could rip him in two if he wanted. Or, maybe he does and it is just one of those things that Harry does that makes Sirius want to shake some sense into him. Right now, he wishes Harry had some of his parents’ common sense instead, and it is a sad day when he wishes James’s sense on someone.

In the end, it is Remus who came here after Harry. He is trying to protect Harry and, although there is a world of things in between, some of which still make Sirius taste betrayal and tears and feel a squeeze around his heart, Remus is the one who never wavered in his trust. He never doubted _any_ of them, even when they were all conspiring against him – even when everyone just knew Sirius was having an affair with Jane Whetherby. He is steady and trustworthy, just like Sirius remembers him.

And Sirius just hurt him again, in his stupid quest to dish out some of the things he went through. He hurt Remus and he has been hurting Harry since he forcefully took him from Privet Drive. Suddenly, Sirius wants to stop. He wants to stop it all, right _now_ , before this feeling in his chest – the one he last felt before sending Snape to the Shrieking Shack – gains a life of its own and makes Sirius’s mother proud of him.

Anyway, his plan was never that good. Sirius wonders if he ever meant any of it. Well, he _will_ kill Peter, and he will tell some truths to Dumbledore, but the rest of it? Getting revenge on Remus, using Harry to get Peter? It’s _Remus_. What was he _thinking_?

Harry is frantically trying to stop the bleeding with his jumper, and he must be freezing in the cold night, so Sirius stumbles forward to help. That is when he notices that, sometime during his epiphany, he transformed back into human form.

Remus growls when Sirius approaches and makes a weak attempt at covering Harry with his colossal body. It makes Sirius feel a little ashamed of himself; he was the one to do this, to make Remus think he really is insane, so he mumbles a Healing Charm, and steps back.

Remus freezes, head held up with ears flat against his head, gazing at Sirius with eyes unnervingly human. Sirius stares back, but their moment is broken by the massive shiver that goes through Harry.

Harry flushes, mutters, “Sorry.”

“No worries, kid,” Sirius says. “Let’s just get inside.” He pulls Harry to his feet and leads him into the cabin, shoving Harry into the fort they built earlier. He starts to gather the couple of blankets around the house and piles them on top of Harry.

Harry, who is still shivering. Sirius wants to kick himself. The night is cold, but it will only get colder, and the cabin is complete bare of anything else they can use as cover. Harry’s wand doesn’t work that well for Sirius, Remus is useless as a wizard in wolf-form and, while Sirius and Remus have the benefit of animal fur, at this altitude, Harry will probably freeze to death in the night.

Sirius spares a moment to pat himself on the back for not having had this brilliant idea in the _middle_ of winter.

“What about you?” Harry asks, moving a little to the side, as if to let Sirius inside his cocoon of dubious warmth.

Sirius tries to be reassuring. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll just transform into a dog. That’s one of the perks of having an Animagus form,” he says lightly, “you have your own blanket always handy.”

Harry rolls his eyes, pretty much like Lily would have, and Sirius is suddenly very glad that Harry can find it in himself to be wry with Sirius. He knows he is smiling.

Heavy footsteps drag Sirius’s gaze towards the doorway and he sees Moony getting inside. Sirius doesn’t even remember leaving the door open, but he is suddenly glad he did, because Remus shoves him aside, gives him a look that says, “You’re a moron. Get out of my way.” He jumps over the barrier made of beds – thank heavens they didn’t actually _need_ it – and curls himself around Harry.

Sirius does not appreciate the relieved sigh Harry lets out, or how he scoots closer to the heated body behind him. Sirius glances at Remus and knows, just _knows_ , that he would be smirking if he had the proper facial muscles. Luckily he doesn’t, but Sirius still sulks. He transforms into Padfoot and lies down on the outer side of the fort.

The minutes trickle by. Sirius is not cold, but he is also not comfortable, and no doubt it has something to do with the fact that Harry has just chosen Moony over Padfoot.

After a while, a familiar whine hangs in the air and Padfoot opens one eye to see Harry peeking over the piled-up beds. “Aren’t you cold, Padfoot?” he asks. “You could come down to this side, it’s warmer.” Harry looks hopeful, not angry at all, which makes Sirius want to accept, although there is Remus’s presence stopping him.

Harry looks resolute, however. Without much choice, Sirius peers beneath the bed to find a set of amber eyes staring at him, cold, but not outright hostile. Sirius takes it as good an invitation as he is going to get.

As he settles next to the other two, he feels Harry relax, apparently unaware of how tense both men are. Padfoot lays his head on his paws, scoots a bit closer to Harry toward his front against the cold, and closes his eyes. He thinks it will only take him two minutes to fall asleep, so comfortable he is.

Suddenly, there is a whoosh of air next to his nose. When he opens his eyes, he sees Moony’s tail lying on the floor; he glances over his shoulder to see Harry already asleep and Moony’s breath moving steadily with slumber. He would have made nothing of it, but he knew Remus better than he knew himself once and he knows that it hasn’t changed, so he can tell that this innocent pose is just that, a pose.

Moony’s ears and nose are twitching, almost as if he is laughing, and suddenly Padfoot is out to play, too. He wags his tail once, and then waits. Moony wags his tail in response. Sirius wants to throw his head back and laugh to cleanse his soul of guilt and revenge, but instead brushes Moony’s flank with his nose, gets a whine for his troubles, and goes to sleep, thinking that the world just got turned the right way.

* * *

The morning breaks with the sound of chirping birds and a couple of quacks when a flock of ducks flies over them. That is actually what wakes Sirius up, but he feels quite comfortable, so he might just sleep for a little while longer. He shifts closer to Harry, only to realise that Harry is not there.

Sirius gets up with a jerk. At first, he is frantic, but then he hears Harry singing in the bathroom, and relaxes, looking around himself to gather his bearings.

As soon as he takes in his surroundings, he flushes, first with pleasure, then with shame at his broken promises. Remus is lying on the hard floor, completely bare in the morning light. Some of the scars across his back and arms are familiar, but some are not, and it is those that make Sirius’s heart beat faster. He promised to always be there to take care of Remus, he and James and Peter. And they broke that promise, when the only thing stopping them from keeping it was their own suspicions. Sirius has to look away, before shaking Remus awake.

Remus wakes with a start. From the corner of his eye, Sirius sees him looking at himself, then at Sirius, then at the room. “Where’s Harry?” he asks, covering himself with one of Harry’s blankets in what is supposed to be a casual manner.

Sirius nods towards the bathroom, where Harry has stopped singing and is now humming some other tune while using what Sirius thinks is the shower door to play drums. Remus smiles a little. This time, Sirius doesn’t want to look away. “I didn’t look.”

“I beg your pardon?” Remus is looking at him oddly.

Sirius clears his throat. “I said I didn’t look,” he gestures at Remus’s body, “I know you don’t like to be stared at after a transformation.”

Remus looks like he doesn’t know what to make of that. It is probably true. “All right.”

Silence.

It’s remarkably obvious that Remus is struggling with what to say next and, truth be told, Sirius has no idea either. “Why are you—?”

“I don’t suppose—.”

Sirius looks away, and silence settles again.

“Good morning,” chirps Harry after a while, banging the bathroom door on his way out. He is dressed in the same dirty clothes and his hair is the usual mess, but his face is clean and he looks like he is in a good mood. A small smile plays at Remus’s lips and Sirius can almost hear what he is thinking – that Harry inherited James’s obnoxious morning persona.

Remus secures the blankets around his body and gets up, extending a hand towards Harry. He looks . . . grown up. There is no way that the old Remus would take the initiative like that. “Hello, Harry. We have been formally introduced before, but I don’t think you remember,” he says cheerfully, as if he had not gone through a body-shattering transformation and fought a mighty battle between mind and body. “My name is Remus Lupin.”

“I know. You were friends with my dad, too, weren’t you? It’s nice to meet you,” Harry replies in a rush. “Thanks for last night.”

A familiar shadow settles over Remus’s eyes. “You’re quite welcome.”

As Sirius can attest, Harry is a smart boy, so he is about as fooled by that gentle tone as Sirius, which is not fooled at all. “I mean it, sir. Thanks a lot. We would have frozen to death without you, I don’t care that other people don’t get that.” Remus looks taken aback, and Harry notices, flushing bright red and stammering, “Yeah, well, I’ll just be outside, then, all right?”

“Harry, wait.” Harry seems to think he is going to be lectured, but Remus just sighs. “If I could borrow your wand to transfigure myself some clothes . . . ?”

Harry is visibly relieved. “Oh yeah, sure. Here.” And he hands his wand to Remus. He just bloody well _hands it over_. Sirius opens his mouth, but then closes it. He may as well get used to Harry’s reckless trust. Neither James nor Lily was ever like this. Remus looks bemused as he gives Harry’s wand back, and Harry all but skips outside.

* * *

“Nice boy,” Remus comments, once Harry closes the door behind himself. “James and Lily would have been proud. Despite his aunt’s efforts,” he added derisively.

It doesn’t sit well with Sirius. “You knew?”

Remus must have heard something in his voice, because he steps out of the bathroom, buttoning his shirt, and looks at Sirius. “Harry was never alone. I told you that yesterday. James and Lily would have wanted me to keep an eye on him, since nobody—well.”

This is finally familiar ground; Remus being passive-aggressive over some mistake, something Sirius has no control over, something he absolutely didn’t want to happen, he just didn’t think, didn’t know better and it’s not his fault. “James might not have believed me, but I never _once_ —.”

Sirius snaps. “Never once, _what_? Never once doubted a friend? Never once made a wrong choice? It was a mistake! We were kids, let it go, damn it!”

“Oh, pray tell, _which_ time are you talking about? The time you tried to make me commit murder for you, when you accused me of betraying my friends or when you convinced everybody else of it—?”

“Betraying my friends? You left me to rot in Azkaban!”

“You got my best friends killed! Harry’s an orphan because of you.”

“I am innocent! You knew—you had to know that I would never, ever betray James and Lily. They were my family, no one else had ever trusted me, believed in me, and now they are dead, dead, dead! And you didn’t believe in me and left me to rot. You knew better!”

“They were my family, too! Did you forget that? Did you forget the nights I spent studying the Fidelius Charm? But I was the werewolf, right? The Dark creature, not to be trusted – fun, sure, but never one of you!”

“I’m sorry, all right! I’m so fucking sorry that I doubted you, but who else? You were powerful, you were smart, and Peter could have never pulled it off. You kept disappearing and I was scared, so I told James, and he latched onto it, despite what Lily and I said. He was so sad, Remus, for you. We were going to confront you, but then you disappeared again, and the Longbottoms were attacked. We were sure, see? But we were wrong, and then they were dead, and I had to do it. I had to go after Peter, but he ran away through the sewer. I’m so fucking sorry, Remus, so fucking sorry.”

Remus whimpers softly in his throat and sags against the wall. “My mother was dying. My father couldn’t leave the store, so I helped. I didn’t want to worry any of you.”

Sirius blinks. “That’s why?” Anger surges again. “Then why didn’t you come for me? You knew I’d never betray Lily and James. You had to know, Moony, you had to.”

Remus slides down the wall until he settles on the floor. Sirius slowly crawls to him, until they sit in front of each other.

“I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t. So, I went to Dumbledore, but he wasn’t at Hogwarts. McGonagall said he was busy, that there was a war to fight and Dumbledore was a busy man. You know I never had the kind of relationship you and James had with them. They wouldn’t tell me anything, about Harry, about what happened. I—I didn’t know.”

Sirius ponders that for a while. “So, this is all Dumbledore’s fault. I knew it.” He doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t lose his temper, because now it finally makes sense. It is always Dumbledore at the centre of everything, making decisions with god-like grace, as if he has the right to have everything his way; as if he knows best.

“What? Sirius, no! It’s not anybody’s fault. We were at war,” he adds, at last, as if that’s supposed to explain everything and, in a way it does, but that doesn’t soothe the beast in Sirius’s chest, demanding that _someone_ pays for what happened. Not just Peter. If it is just Peter’s fault, then it means it’s Sirius’s, too, because he was the one who made the choice to trust him.

“Is that why you never took Harry away?” he asks. “You could have. You could have saved him.”

Remus looks at Sirius as if he is seeing him for the first time, but Sirius doesn’t feel his stomach flutter and his heartbeat quicken like he did last time it happened. Instead he feels ashamed, scared and angry at himself and Remus for not having the courage to do what they think is best for the people they care for. Like Dumbledore does.

“Is—,” Remus’s voice breaks, “is that why . . . you took him? To save him?” Remus looks as if he is about to hug Sirius, eyes gentle and soft like every other time he forgave Sirius his recklessness, but is uncertain of his welcome. Sirius almost crosses that bridge himself, but—

“ARRRRRGH!”

Sirius and Remus freeze for a split-second, before they are on their feet, running outside for all their worth. Sirius feels his world rock at the sight that greets him.

The cloudy sky is shadowed by hooded figures, bodies deathly graceful as they spin around the clearing like one entity, sucking the life out of nature. The trees turn ash-gray under their hand, and animals whimper at the sudden cold. Harry looks ghastly, staring wide-eyed at the figures closing in on him, on his unmarred optimism that Sirius can’t understand. But that is when they notice Sirius, rooted to the spot, knowing he can’t escape them, so scared of his mother, of his father, of Remus’s betrayal—

“ _Sirius_! Snap out of it!” Remus yells as he sprints towards the throng of Dementors around the child, wandless and fearless.

What else can Sirius do but to run after them, as well? If they go, he’ll go with them. Harry and Remus, the only people he has left. To the hell with revenge, fuck Pettigrew and Dumbledore. Sirius wants to be the kind of man that James was; a man that protects his family in life and beyond, the man he once was and wants to be again, even if as a departing gift to the world. It is that man that Remus deserves.

Sirius can feel the cold gripping his heart, even as he shields Harry and Remus with his body. It is not his family that he hears this time, and it is not James and Lily’s deaths, but his own whimpers in a slimy, damp cell in Azkaban when he realised that no one was coming for him.

He was wrong. There is Remus, struggling to take Harry’s wand out of his petrified hand, shouting something or other over Sirius’s own hitched breath. “Expecto Patronum!” Remus shouts despairingly – Merlin only knows what he is hearing – but no silvery cocker spaniel comes out when he shouts, only a pitiful wisp of translucent smoke. “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

The cold is closing in on them. Remus is weak from the night of full moon; he won’t be able to cast properly. “Come on, Moony! For Harry!” Sirius shouts, although he is afraid it comes out as a breathless whisper rather than a cheer. “Moony, com— _Moony_!”

“Get away, Paddy! Get away! Take Harry and get a—aaarrrrrgh!”

No, no, Sirius thinks. He can only watch in helpless panic as Remus is lifted into the air, wand torn from his grasp in a supernatural rush of wind, thrown deathly quiet on the dirt. Sirius fancies that he can almost feel the glee in the Dementor that swoops down on Remus, breathing heavily as he sucks at the last of Remus’s foggy happiness.

“No!” Sirius screams, “No! I won’t go! I can’t lose you, Remus, I don’t want to be alone.” Remus doesn’t get up. “ _Remus_!” There is cold, sadness, fear and death. “James! Lily! NO!”

Sirius is not done yet, he can still fight physically, no matter how useless people told him it would be, so he launches himself through the coldness gripping him, over Remus’s body. The world starts to go black, dimmer and dimmer, until – “ _EXPECTO PATRONUM_!” – a sudden brightness fills his eyes; he sees a white stag approaching them, bowing slightly. “Prongs . . . .” he cries – then passes out.


	5. Reunion

Sirius sits on the edge of the clearing in the falling dusk.

He almost transforms into Padfoot, but he doesn’t deserve the oblivion that would bring. What he deserves is to think about all the completely insane things he has done since he left Azkaban and how he should just vanish before he actually does some serious damage to Harry, and repent how he is not sorry at all. He can’t be sorry. He met Harry, he saved Harry from Lily’s awful sister, he talked to Remus.

There is sudden noise at his side and Sirius lifts his head to see Remus slumping to the floor with a weary sigh. Their shoulders are almost touching. They sit there for a long time, until the night sky turns dark blue with tiny sparkling dots.

“Harry’s exhausted,” says Remus, “I was worried, but he is just sleeping.”

“The kid saved us, Moony,” Sirius replies. “Even after everything I did to him, he just forgave me and then saved me from all those Dementors. With a corporeal Patronus. He’s just thirteen.”

“Yes, but he did vanquish Voldemort—.”

Sirius snorts. “Come on, that has nothing to do with it. You’ve seen him. He is an utterly loveable kid, but magically, he’s—it seemed so, at least—no better than James and Lily. But that Patronus was better than most adults manage.”

“Maybe it has nothing to do with power. Maybe Harry is just better at white magic. Dumbledore,” Sirius scowls at the name, “Dumbledore,” Remus repeats pointedly, “says that Harry’s greatest strength is his ability to care for people.”

“Just like Lily.”

Remus smiles fondly. “Yeah. I loved James, but no one could hold a grudge like he did. Harry’s much more like Lily in that respect. He’s very kind.” They lapse into silence. “I miss them, all the time. I miss Peter. I don’t how to stop, even knowing—.”

“So, you believe me?”

Remus presses his lips together, looks upwards, then finally at Sirius. “There isn’t a single reason why I should, Padfoot. Not one. But I do. I don’t think I ever stopped trusting you, despite everything.”

It is the mention of trust, a word Sirius loathed throughout the last twelve years, that does it. He pulls his legs to his chest and buries his face in his knees. “I’m sorry, Moony,” he breathes, “so, so sorry. I should have believed you like you always believed me. I’m such a _wreck_! I hate this person I’ve become; I don’t want to be this person. I hurt you so many times. I’m so sorry, _please_ , please forgive me—.”

Remus places a hand on Sirius shoulder and squeezes. “Don’t say that, Sirius. I should have tried harder to get you out,” his voice breaks, “I should have been as brave as you are, as James and Lily were, and I should have fought for you. I just—I was so _hurt_.”

Sirius hesitates a moment, then lays his head on Remus’s hand, trapping it beneath his cheek. Remus’s hand is warm and rough, and it is holding his shoulder so tight, as if Remus wants to do more, but can’t bring himself to do it. Sirius has no choice but to do it himself. He scoots closer, and places a hand on Remus’s thigh.

Neither moves at first.

After a while, Remus sighs in defeat, shifts sideways, curls both arms around Sirius’s middle, and rests his head on Sirius’s shoulder. It feels like the temperature shoots up a few hundred degrees. Sirius feels warm and safe and finally home; finally, out of Azkaban. He feels like he could take on the world in that moment. He feels like fighting.

“You should go, Padfoot,” says Remus. “If those Dementors found us,” Sirius wants to smile at the pronoun, “then it’s just a matter of time before the Ministry comes. I won’t see you in Azkaban, again. I can’t.”

Sirius closes his eyes, and nuzzles Remus’s hair. This is the moment. There have been a few of late, moments where Sirius can tell that his choices will set him on an irrevocably different path, and he won’t ever be able to turn back. Like the moment he chose to take Harry, or face Remus in Godric’s Hollow.

If he hadn’t done any of those things, he might have reached Pettigrew without major difficulty. He might have got him with minimal damage, might have told Harry the truth in the process, and maybe even have had a chance of hexing Snivellus on his trip to Hogwarts. He would have been able to present proof of his innocence to Remus. But, how long until he saw Harry as more than just the sum of James and Lily? And what about Remus? How long until they trusted each other? How long until they got to this point again, if ever?

That is another universe, another reality, but this Sirius chose something else. He chose to put himself on the line despite not wanting to, despite his protestations to the contrary, but really, what else has he been walking towards, if not this? He might not have rationally realised it, but this – Remus, Harry, trust – is what he has been looking for all along.

The truth is that Sirius is a Gryffindor; he was made to forgive, to trust and to love. That he was born a Black means nothing compared to the choices he made in his life. This is who he is.

So, he makes another one of those choices. “I have a plan,” he confides. “I know where Pettigrew is. He is at Hogwarts. I meant to take Harry there, threaten my way inside and kill Pettigrew.”

Sirius speaks in a rush, as if now that he has made his choice, he can’t wait long enough to share it. By the end of it, Remus has drawn back and is looking appalled. “Are you insane?” he demands. For a moment, he looks like the teenager Remus, demanding to know what James, Sirius and Peter planned to do with all those Cornish pixies. Sirius bites back a chuckle. “I mean it, Sirius, do you want to prove to everyone that you really are a deranged criminal? Of course, you are deranged, but you are no criminal. Yet.”

Sirius snorts again, but replies seriously. “I was sent to Azkaban for betraying my best friend, Remus. I wasn’t even tried. Worse than that it can’t be, so I’ll take my chances.”

Remus looks like he wants to argue, but then sags against Sirius. “You are terrible company,” he accuses. Then, quietly, “I’m glad you’ll let me help.”

Sirius’s heart jolts at that, such pleasure when Remus looks so disgruntled. “You mean you want to?”

Remus sends him a familiar disgusted glare. “You know that’s exactly what I mean. You know it, because it’s just like the dozens of other times you bullied me into doing some really stupid stuff for you.” But he looks so relieved. As if _Sirius_ is doing _him_ a favour by asking.

“And I love you for it,” Sirius replies automatically. This was his response when they were kids, every time they had this discussion, but this time it isn’t meant as a joke. He cares for Remus; more than he thought possible, more than yesterday, more than he ever admitted, more than he remembered, but it hardly comes as a surprise. It’s just the truth.

Remus harrumphs, but his cheeks are flushed, and he leans further into Sirius. “You better love me, all right. You know, maybe you should let Harry help you, too . . . .”

* * *

They sit quietly in the living room of Remus’s quarters at Hogwarts. No one bated an eye at Professor Lupin’s new dog; it’s just one more of his quirks, Sirius thinks fondly. "Harry trusts to a default,” Remus comments blithely. “Like Dumbledore. I think they always see something we don't. Maybe we should take a page of their book." Sirius nods, kisses Remus full on the lips. He has made that choice the moment he took Harry.

 

THE END


End file.
